The Cockatoos Story | Page 3

the reward is greater than I deserve, for it seems an easy thing to be kind to animals and insects."
"It's not such an easy thing as you think, sir," said Mrs. Polly. "I've lived seventy years in this world, and I've kept my eyes wide open, and I've seen boys, ay, and girls too, do very cruel things to dumb animals."
"Dear me, Polly, have you lived seventy years?" replied Herbert in much astonishment; "I had no idea of it. Uncle James says parrots live to a great age--he knew one that was a hundred years old; but somehow I thought you were quite young. I mustn't ask you to dance quite so often, for your legs must feel rather stiff at times. But what was that the fairy said you could teach me? Is it a story? I must hear it."
"Very well, sir," said Mrs. Polly, courtesying again, just to show how agile she was, for she did not like the idea of her old legs being thought stiff. "But before you came in, Mr. Cockatoo was preparing to tell me his history, the history of his life. He is two years old, Master Herbert, and as he fancies the world has ill-used him, I think it would make him more comfortable to tell his story first, if you don't mind, sir."
"Oh, very well," said Herbert, delighted to think that he could understand the cockatoo also. "But I must not forget my lessons. I shall go now and learn them; and in the afternoon, when you are in your cages, I will bring the fish-hooks I have got to make, and while I do them we can listen to the story."
"We shall be all the better of a few quiet hours," said Mrs. Polly, who was very fond of a nap in the afternoon, especially after partaking of rich cake. "Dear me, Master Herbert, one gets quite stupified looking back into one's life. We'll lay our brains in sleep, sir, while you're at your lessons. Good-day, good-day." Out of compliment, she finished off with Herbert's own language, though had she said it in her own he would have understood it quite well. But Polly hadn't lived for seventy years for nothing.
In the afternoon the cockatoo's cage was placed at the open window, Polly preferring to have hers on one side, to be away from the draught; and when Herbert had got his box of hooks, and his coloured feathers, and reels of silk placed conveniently, he bade Mr. Cockatoo begin his story.
[Illustration: LISTENING TO THE COCKATOO'S STORY.
Page 22.]
"You said some time ago, Master Herbert," began the cockatoo, "that I was brought from the Indian Islands; and I suppose you're right, sir, though I can't say I ever heard the name before to-day: all I can say is, I remember the place well. When I popped my head out of my shell, I found other three heads had done the same, so I was the youngest of my family. A sad circumstance for me, as you will see. There we lay, without a single feather, and not even a particle of down to cover us, our heads feeling far too large for our naked bodies. We had to be as patient as we could, down in our nest in an old rotten tree, till the down began to come; but it was three or four months before we were fairly covered with feathers. Somehow, being the youngest, my feathers were longer of coming than were the others; and when our mother was out of hearing, my brothers would laugh at me, and make fun of my big head--for it certainly was a very large head. This treatment spoiled my temper, and I would sit and sulk by myself, taking a delight in refusing to join in any of their sports when a fourth was required. I used to creep up to the top of the tree, and sit trimming my feathers, spreading them out and trying to make the most of their scanty appearance, till my patience was rewarded; for beyond a doubt, at the end of the fifth month my plumage was something wonderful to behold for beauty. As for my head being large, it now helped to show off the splendid yellow crest; and the awkward look was quite gone. Still my temper hadn't improved; indeed I think it was worse, for conceit was added to my other bad qualities; and when I would have liked to be amiable and join the merry flock of cockatoos that lived in the trees near us, they would have nothing to say to me. My mother used often to moan and vex herself about me, and she did her best to keep as near me as she could, warning me that it